The holidays are about family and food. Many folks are lucky enough to travel back home.

My childhood home is just the same except Daddy is gone and Mama is in an assisted living facility.

My husband’s family farm is in the process of being cleaned out. Both his parents are gone.

So, where is home now?

My children are under the roof of the house my husband and I built ourselves. This is their home.

We will spend Thanksgiving at the farm and tomorrow with Mama and my sister at the facility.

So, where is home now?

I never questioned where home was before. Home was wherever my parents and sister were.

Home was daddy’s garden, the swing, the living room with the piano, daddy’s chair by the window.

That place is still there, but empty and quiet. It is full of old things and fond memories, not people.

Home is warm and noisy and busy.

We are the home now. We are holding up home. We are the foundation, whether solid or cracked.

We must hold up home for our children. We must be the home.

I never felt this weight before. Holding everyone together, preserving the family.

Today as I make Mama’s sweet potato casserole and Nana’s stuffing, I will appreciate all the holidays behind me

and realize that I am holding up home like a bridge between the past and the future.

Home for the holidays.

I am home. I am the home.

Happy Thanksgiving

FLOWER